


How Lucky We Are

by angelsdemonsducks



Series: rise up [6]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Epic Friendship, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Trans Character, Trans!Peggy, peggy is so awesome, that is brief and not from any main character, transphobic language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-22 00:41:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9574289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsdemonsducks/pseuds/angelsdemonsducks
Summary: There is never a time when Peggy does not know exactly who she is.This is fairly rare; most people remember their past lives in their late teens to early twenties, sometimes a little earlier. It is uncommon for someone to grow up with the knowledge of who they once were, but Peggy supposes that she’s always liked being the exception to the rule.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Previously: Everybody is reincarnated (a normal thing in this universe). George Washington is running for president, and everybody who's anybody is trying to get in on the campaign.
> 
> Well, it's only been... two months. Yeesh. Really sorry, guys, life has been crazy. I honestly can't promise prompt updates from this point forward, but I can promise that the updates will come. I've got this series outlined all the way through part 16, so let me tell you, this thing is my brainchild and I'm continuing it no matter what.

There is never a time when Peggy does not know exactly who she is. 

This is fairly rare; most people remember their past lives in their late teens to early twenties, sometimes a little earlier. It is uncommon for someone to grow up with the knowledge of who they once were, but Peggy supposes that she’s always liked being the exception to the rule.

Of course, explaining this to her parents is an entirely different beast. They’ve always known she was… not quite like the other children her age, always a little more grown up, a little more sophisticated. They’ve always noticed that she doesn’t have a lot of interest in the things that she’s supposed to be into at her age. But they’ve always ignored it; she suspects that they think that if they ignore her differences, they’ll go away, that they’ll have a normal child.

Which, no. She’s never been interested in being normal. She is completely, unapologetically herself, and they’re just going to have to deal with that. They’re her parents, and she loves them, but she’s not going to change for them. Not like they seem to expect her to.

So for a long time, they coexist, never really seeming like a functional family unit, but never quite falling apart either. They all love each other, which is what matters in the end, she supposes, even if her sisters’ absence tears something up deep inside of her whenever she allows herself to dwell on it.

But things must come to a head eventually. And they do, at her eleventh birthday party. It seems to her that everybody that her parents know has been invited, which is no small feat, considering how social her parents are. So the house is crowded, stiflingly so, and honestly, she would have liked it a lot better if the celebration had been a private, family affair, but her parents wouldn’t have it.

So, here she is, sitting on the couch, opening presents under the scrutiny of a gaggle of people she doesn’t really know, all of them watching her like she’s a caged animal at the zoo.

_I_ _ ’m not here for your entertainment! _ she wants to screech at them, but she holds herself back, taking her frustration out on the wrapping paper that she rips into, but even that starts to not help, as the presents are revealed. Because all of them, every last one of them, are obviously geared toward boys. Which is something she wouldn’t have a problem with, normally; she’s never really liked any of the super-girly toys anyway. But… would it kill them, to give her a doll? Or a dress?

She… really wants a dress. Really, really wants one.

She doesn’t even realize she’s crying until her parents are crouched by her side, rubbing circles into her back. “Patrick, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” her mother coos, and usually, it would make her feel better, because despite her faults, it is obvious that her mother is trying, at least, that she cares. But it is the use of that name that puts her over the edge, because she hates it, hates it,  _ hates it. _

“I’m not a boy!” she ends up screaming, finally pushed over the edge, finally letting out something that has been festering inside of her as long as she can remember. “I know you want me to be, but I’m not! I’m a girl, and my name’s not Patrick! I hate that name, I hate it!”

The entire room freezes, the conversation dying down before it erupts again into insidious whispers. She is even more of a curiosity now, more of a freak in their eyes, a source of gossip and speculation to them, nothing more. 

_ Did you hear?  _ they’ll be saying to all their friends as soon as they get the chance.  _ Did you hear about the Sadlers’ son? What he said at his birthday party? Yes, he just started screaming out of the blue, saying such awful things about being a girl! Can you believe it? What a thing to happen! _

She hates them all. But they’re all occupied with each other now, and her parents seem to be in a state of shock, so it is easy enough to slip out of the room unnoticed. She makes her way to the kitchen, because she knows it will be empty, because she knows that she’ll be able to cry her eyes out without anyone watching her or judging her.

But it isn’t empty. There is a boy sitting at the kitchen table, a cookie in each hand, and when she walks in, he looks up.

“Oh, hi,” he says, completely unashamed to be caught red-handed. “I heard what happened in there. Are you okay?” 

She studies him with a frown. He can’t be much older than she is, and he might be even younger than that. He looks vaguely familiar, so she must have seen him around sometime, but she can’t put a name to the face. Maybe he goes to her school.

" I’m okay,” she tells him, even though it’s a lie. “My parents just don’t like me very much right now.”

He nods sagely. “My parents don’t like me very much either,” he says cheerfully.

She furrows her brow, moving closer, curious in spite of herself. “Why’s that?” she asks, and he shrugs. 

“They think I’m too girly. I like, like, making clothes and fashion and stuff like that, but they think that’s not something a boy should like.” He looks her up and down. “Y’know, if you’re a girl, I could try to make you a dress or something, if you want. I think I must have been a fashion designer or something in my past life, ‘cause I know a lot about how to do stuff like that.”

Her eyes widen, and she clambers up onto the chair next to him. “Really?” she demands. “Wait, what’s your name?”

He regards her. “Promise you won’t laugh?” he asks, and she nods.

“I promise,” she replies, though wondering how bad his name could possibly be if he thinks she’ll laugh at him for it.

He sighs. “M’name’s Heracles,” he says, looking extremely put-upon. “Like the hero. But if you call me that, I’ll knock your daylights out!” he is quick to add. “Call me Herc, okay?”

She considers that for a moment. “Okay,” she agrees, “Herc, then. But only if you call me Peggy.”

He grins a wide, cheeky grin and sticks his hand out for her to shake, his fingers still smeared with chocolate and cookie crumbs. She only hesitates a moment before taking it.

It is the start of a beautiful friendship.

* * *

 

(She talks to her parents, eventually, because a confrontation is unavoidable, and she doesn’t want to avoid it for too long, not really. She has too many things to say, too many things to get off her chest. So eventually, they all sit down and have a discussion, and she explains everything, explains why she acted the way she did, explains the feelings that have been pent up inside of her for so long. It is a relief to no longer be sitting on all of this, no matter what their reactions end up being, so she can’t bring herself to regret it.

They don’t understand it. Not really. She can see it from the looks in their eyes and the way they exchange sideways glances with each other. But when Christmas rolls around a few months later, her parents both smile at her as she unwraps a gorgeous yellow sundress, and they hug her as she breaks down into tears.

They’re trying, and that’s good enough for her.)

* * *

 

Herc does indeed go to her school, and from the moment of their meeting onward, they are inseparable. Teachers learn to fear them, their peers learn to either respect them or steer clear, and the sports teams learn that they don’t take their shit lying down. And life, while not perfect, is good.

Then, there is a disruption.

They are seventeen, and there is a new kid in school. Not something entirely out of the ordinary, but there isn’t a whole lot of diversity here, in this part of town, so when someone comes in and rocks the boat, it makes big waves. The first thing Peggy and Herc know of it are the whispers that permeate the building, muttered conversations along the lines of “That new guy, did you see?” and “-wearing a  _ skirt _ , what the-” and so naturally, Peggy decides that they need to investigate.

So, they do. They find the new kid easily enough; they’re the one being surrounded by several of the local jocks in a stereotypical scene that belongs in a campy movie about high school rather than reality. The kid is indeed wearing a skirt, which Peggy is sure the jocks would have no problem with if the kid wasn’t also sporting a beard.

Beside her, Herc freezes.

To their credit, the new kid isn’t backing down, their head held high, and frankly, they don’t exactly make an easy target, tall and built as they are. She’s pretty sure they’d be able to handle this on their own, but then again, they shouldn’t have to. Besides, she needs to introduce them to the cool people- namely, she and Herc- and she can’t do that in good conscience if she leaves them to fend for themself. 

“Hey, jackasses,” she says, and steps forward. Said jackasses suddenly fall silent, and the only sound to be heard in the hallway is the sound of her heels clicking against the tile as she stalks toward them. “Not that I think you’d succeed in whatever it is you’re trying to do here, but fuck off. No one here wants to deal with your stupidity at the moment, kapeesh?”

Herc steps up next to her and does his best to seem intimidating. Which isn’t all that hard for him. The jocks clear out, because by now, they know better than to mess with the two of them. This leaves Herc and her pretty much alone with the new kid, since the bell for next period rang about two minutes ago, but she doesn’t let that faze her.

“Peggy Sadler,” she says, stepping forward. “And that’s Herc Morgan. Nice to meet you. Sorry about those assholes, but I’m afraid the school’s full of them. Rich, conservative asses, most of them. Sorry, I’m being rude, pronouns?” She holds out her hand, and after a moment, they take it, a slow smile spreading across their face.

“It is very nice to meet you as well,” they reply, “and I use they/them, thank you for asking.” They take her hand in a strong grip, and, wow, that is an actual French accent, isn’t it? That’s pretty great, and definitely not something that’s heard around here often. “And you?”

“She/her for me and he/him for Herc,” she replies, gesturing behind her to where Herc is still standing for some reason instead of coming over to introduce himself. “What’s your name?”

The smile widens. “I have a few, but I generally go by-”

“Lafayette,” Herc finally cuts in. His voice is uncharacteristically quiet, but it slices through the conversation regardless. Peggy frowns, and they stiffen.

“Excuse me?” they ask, an edge to their voice.

Herc steps forward, shaking off his stupor. “No, you’re Lafayette, aren’t you?” he presses. “I  _ know _ you, I’m sure of it. You’re Lafayette.”

Oh.  _ Oh. _ Peggy knows what it looks like to see someone in the grip of past memories, has seen it before on the faces of a few classmates unlucky enough to remember or to be triggered into remembering at school. But funnily enough, she’s never really given much thought to what the look would be like on Herc.

They-- Lafayette?-- narrow their eyes. And then, they let out a small gasp. “Mon dieu,” they say. “Hercules Mulligan?”

Herc grins. “You know it. Damn, it’s good to see you.” He takes another step forward and pulls them into a hug, which they return eagerly. “It’s only been what, two hundred years?”

They laugh. “Too long indeed,” they agree. “Lafayette is a name I haven’t heard in a while, I’ll admit. I usually just go by Gilbert these days. But for you…” They give Herc a once over. “For you, mon ami, Lafayette is just fine.”

And that is when it clicks, when all the pieces slide together. This isn’t some random Frenchperson. “Oh my god,” she says. “You’re the actual Marquis de Lafayette. Holy shit.”

They give a little bow. “That’s me,” they say, and they give her a quizzical look. “Did we know each other?”

She feels the sudden urge to go punch someone in the face. Either that, or plop herself down on the floor for a while and just… not move. “I… no,” she replies. “No, I don’t think so. But we had a mutual acquaintance in my brother-in-law, I believe. Alexander Hamilton?”

She sees the exact moment that sinks in. Their face goes pale. “Mon dieu,” they mutter.

Herc’s eyes widen. “Wait, wait, wait a sec,” he says. “Hold up. You’re  _ that _ Peggy? Peggy Schuyler?”

Another thing clicks. “Hercules Mulligan,” she repeats. “Like,  _ that _ Hercules Mulligan. Like, Alexander’s friend Hercules Mulligan.”

There is silence for a moment.

“Well then,” Lafayette says, and if that doesn’t just sum it all up, Peggy doesn’t know what does. It seems like one hell of a coincidence that they all have someone in common, but frankly, she would rather not think about that. Because Alexander, as it turned out, was a complete asshole, and the less said about him the better.

* * *

 

The addition of Lafayette to their duo fills a hole they didn’t even know was there, fills a gap that they didn’t realize needed to be filled at all. Lafayette is funny and charming and doesn’t take shit from anyone, and honestly, Peggy could see herself falling for them if she didn’t know that they are totally into Herc. As things are, she just thanks every all-powerful force she knows of, including the flying spaghetti monster, that she has two best friends that love her and that she loves in return.

And when she walks in on the two of them one day, she is nothing but supportive, even though that was something she could have lived her life happily without seeing, thank you very much.

* * *

 

Time passes. The world grows older, and so do they, the years flashing by in the spaces between heartbeats.

High school ends. College begins. New friends are made, and old friends drift away, but she and Herc and Laf stay intact through it all, the eye of a storm whirling all around them, because they know that no matter what, they have each other’s backs. Herc goes into the fashion industry with a shrug and a “Why the hell not?” and Laf, after a couple of years of deliberation, decides to go into law. And Peggy decides to try teaching, because while nowadays she finds it difficult to always believe the best in people, she’s always liked kids. The new generations rising up give her hope, and she would like to have a hand in that if she can.

So, things are going well. They all have comfort and stability, as much as broke college students can have comfort and stability. And she is content.

And then, of course, the world goes completely nuts.

The day George Washington (George Washington!) announces his bid for the presidency, Laf bursts into her dorm room in a frenzy, talking at one hundred miles per hour and switching back and forth between French and English at random intervals. Herc is following behind them at a more sedate pace, but she can see the excitement in his eyes regardless.

“This is the greatest thing to happen this century!” Laf exclaims at one point, grin wide on their face, and she can’t help but agree. Because hope is welling up in her, treacherous, shining hope that she almost doesn’t dare acknowledge. Because the Washington campaign will almost definitely be a gathering point for historical figures, and that means that if they are alive, then maybe, just maybe, that is where her sisters will be. She forced herself to stop obsessing over finding them a long time ago, because there is only a fraction of a chance that she would locate them, and continuing to pursue a worthless endeavor like that would have driven her crazy.

But suddenly, the likelihood of finding them again has skyrocketed, and that would be terrifying if she didn’t feel so happy.

So, obviously, they need to get themselves involved in the campaign somehow. They all have their separate reasons for doing it; Peggy has her sisters, Herc has a thing against the establishment, and Washington was basically like a father to Laf. But those reasons are all united in a common cause, and they won’t stop at anything to get to their goal.

This turns out to be harder than it seems at first glance.

For one thing, there’s the logistics to worry about. Because they are all penniless college students, and none of them actually own a car. Peggy could probably ask her parents for a loan, but she’s not quite that desperate yet. And trying to contact the campaign doesn’t help at all; the people manning the phones don’t recognize the names Hercules Mulligan or Peggy Schuyler, and they never believe that Laf is actually the Marquis de Lafayette.

“It makes sense,” Herc says gloomily. “With the waves the campaign is making, they’re probably getting a lot of people claiming to be people they’re not. Wanting to be in on the action and whatnot.”

Which, yes. That is likely the case. Reincarnate identity fraud always skyrockets around an election season, and the fact that George Washington is a candidate this time is only making it worse. But that doesn’t mean she has to like it.

In the end, there’s only so much she can take.

It’s her sister that’s the catalyst, her sister, like it’s always been. Angelica was never one to sit back in the sidelines, so when Peggy sees her standing behind Washington on the television screen one day, assistant manager of the campaign, she isn’t surprised. And after that, it is like the floodgates have been opened, and she spots more and more familiar faces every time Washington makes a public appearance. Aaron Burr, that asshole, pops up more and more, handling the press with a deftness she has to admit she grudgingly respects. And there is a man who starts hanging around that have both Herc and Laf reacting with delight.

“That’s John Laurens!” Laf tells her, beaming, and she understands.

And then,  _ and then _ , she sees that he’s there too. Of course he is. Like he would miss something like this. Alexander Hamilton, the bastard himself, and unless she is sorely mistaken, Eliza is there with him. Or maybe she’s with Laurens. Or maybe Laurens is with Alexander? What?

Hard to tell from the mere glimpses she catches. Maybe it’s all three of them. She intends to ask. Because like hell is she going to let this go.

“We’re going,” she states flatly, after turning the TV off for what she hopes is the last time. Laf and Herc look up at her from where they’re huddled together on the bed, pretending to be studying. “We’re going if it kills us.” And she picks up her cell phone and dials a number that has, in the past couple of months, become all too familiar.

“Hello, you’ve reached the Washington campaign, how may-”

“Shut up,” she growls. “I don’t care. You are going to put my sister on the line right fucking now or I swear to God-”

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

She narrows her eyes into a truly impressive glare. Pity that won't transfer over the phone line. “Put Angelica Schuyler, or Smith, whatever the hell she’s going by now, on the phone. Right. Now. And if she’s not there, get me Eliza.”

Perhaps it is her tone that is convincing this time, or perhaps she was lucky enough to be answered by the one guy who seems willing to believe her story, or perhaps she’s just terrified him. Whatever the reason, the man stammers and hems and haws before finally telling her to hold for a moment. She does, flashing a grin at Laf and Herc, who have abandoned all pretenses and are both staring at her.

“Is it working?” Laf asks, eyebrows climbing.

She holds up a finger. “Hang on,” she says, and then-

“Hello?” a voice comes down from the other end of the line, its tone filled with confusion and annoyance and possibly a bit of concern. Peggy takes a moment to bask in it.

It’s been too long.

“Hey, Angelica,” she says. “How’ve you been?”

There is a long pause. A sharp intake of breath. “What the hell-” Angelica starts, and then cuts herself off. Another pause. “Peggy?” she asks cautiously, and Peggy cannot help but grin, even though she knows her sister won’t be able to see it.

“That’s me,” she agrees as behind her, Herc and Laf both get up and move closer.

“Is that your sister?” Herc asks at the same time that Laf says, “Do not hog the phone, mon ami, please!”

She rolls her eyes, but puts the phone on speaker anyway. “Long time no see,” she says. “How’s the campaign trail treating you?”

Angelica laughs, loud and bright and happy, so, so very happy, and Peggy can’t help but join in. “God, I’ve missed you so much,” she says eventually, as soon as they have both recovered a modicum of composure. “ _ We’ve  _ missed you so much.”

“Eliza’s there too, right?” she checks. “Oh, and you’re on speaker, by the way.”

“She’s here. Not in the building, at the moment, but here,” Angelica confirms, then pauses. “Who else is there?” she questions, a hint of suspicion entering her voice.

And that seems to be Herc and Laf’s cue to speak, almost overlapping each other in their attempts to be heard.

“Hercules Mulligan, nice to meet you.”

“And I am the Marquis de Lafayette, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

There is silence over the other end of the line for a moment. “Alright then,” Angelica says, and she sounds amused. “So, I assume the three of you want to get over here, then. I can think of more than a few people who’ll be really happy to see you.”

“That’d be nice,” Peggy agrees, a warm glow spreading through her, because this is real. This is actually happening. She is talking to her sister for the first time in years, her friends by her side, and they are going to help George Washington become president once again. 

She’ll have to stock up on her red white and blue merchandise before they go, because this is too good of an opportunity to pass up.

So they arrange it all. Angelica gets them airline tickets, gets everything fixed with their college, gets them everything they’re going to need to travel halfway across the country on such short notice. It is remarkable the change that causes in their trio; they were full of energy and anticipation and hope before, but now they are buzzing with it. Herc runs around for hours trying to make sure they have everything packed, and Laf hasn’t stopped smiling since the call went through.

And she can’t blame them, because she’s just as keyed up. She wakes up early on the morning they are to leave, because of all the milestones they’ve passed through together, this seems like one of the most important. This one feels more like a doorway, a doorway to parts both incredibly familiar and completely unknown. 

She smiles, and turns off her alarm.

**Author's Note:**

> So if you follow me on [tumblr](http://angelsanddemonsandducks.tumblr.com/), you know that I've mentioned writing a Sherlock!au sometime. If I were to write it, it would probably in the form of a bunch of small oneshots posted on my tumblr before anything else, nothing super organized or anything, but would anybody be interested? Idk
> 
> Anyway, next up: Everyone gathers together at campaign headquarters, and plans are discussed. Also, Aaron really needs to talk to somebody.


End file.
